


Of Heroes and Grocery Stores

by capsicleonyourleft



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Derogatory Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsicleonyourleft/pseuds/capsicleonyourleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve may not know Tony Stark, but he knows he's a hero. He better not hear anyone claim otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Heroes and Grocery Stores

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt “Waiting behind you in line but ‘excuse you me did i just hear you talking shit about my favourite superhero there SON’” 
> 
> This is an AU where everyone is still a superhero, but the Avengers haven't been formed. Incorporates elements from both 616 and MCU.
> 
> Trigger warnings: mentions of alcoholism, a minor character using derogatory language.
> 
> Written for STAC/stevetonyfest 2014.

It’s been a shitty day. It’s been a  _string_  of shitty days, really. His ribs are bruised and sore from the latest mission, and he’s reaching a week of no sleep. After two years in this new world, Steve’s been doing better, and he has a lot of good days to show for his progress and hard work. With the holidays fast approaching, though, an emptiness has lodged itself in his chest with an intensity he hasn’t felt since his early days out of the ice.

 

As a kid, this was Steve’s favourite time of the year. They never had much, but his Ma always made it so he didn’t feel he was missing out on anything. Together, they’d make creative dishes from the few ingredients they could afford, singing carols in their messy kitchen. The sound of her laughter filled their small apartment, warm and wholehearted, more precious than any expensive gift. After her passing, he could hardly find any reason for celebration. It was almost a relief to get away from the city once he joined the military, where every holiday consisted of playing cards with Bucky and the Commandos while passing around a bottle of whatever liquor they’d managed to procure.

 

The worst part, now, is that there’s no escaping the festivities. The city is a bright blur of colourful lights and lavish decorations, the smell of pine needles and gingerbread wafting from every street corner. Under different circumstances, Steve’s artistic eye might have appreciated the beauty surrounding him. Instead, New York City suddenly feels too big, too joyous, and entirely too lonely.

 

So, yes, it’s been a shitty few days, and Steve is tired and cranky by the time he makes it to the grocery store. It’s fairly crowded, people pushing shopping carts down the aisles and only narrowly avoiding crashing into one another. Steve tugs on the brim of his ball cap as he grabs a basket, hoping it will be enough to disguise him so he won’t be recognized.

 

When he’s done, he takes his place in the self-checkout line. The magazine stand in front of him catches his attention. Spider-Man graces the front page of  _The Daily Bugle_ ; as usual, the headline is sensationalist and incendiary, purporting him to be an accomplice of the Green Goblin. Most of the gossip magazines feature Tony Stark on the cover, and Steve doesn’t even bother reading the headlines. For the most part, he’s assimilated to present-day culture, but the modern press is one development he just can’t get on board with. Sighing, he takes out his phone and begins checking his email. He’s nearly done typing a reply to Sam when a loud voice throws him off.

 

“What a joke!” Steve looks up from his phone to see the man in front of him holding one of the magazines with Tony Stark on the cover, pointing it out to his friend. He honestly doesn’t mean to eavesdrop—his Ma taught him better than that, and he really has no interest in the conversation of strangers—but the guy isn’t exactly being subtle and it’s hard to ignore him. “This guy’s supposed to be a hero? Give me a fucking break.”

 

Steve’s pulse quickens and he grits his teeth. He hates it when good people are unfairly criticized, but everyone is entitled to their opinion. Trying to tune out the conversation, he turns his attention back to his phone.  

 

“He’s just a pathetic drunk, anyway.”

 

Steve clenches his fists. The phone screen cracks at the pressure. Stark’s struggle with alcoholism is well-documented, but it’s not for anyone to comment on, especially so callously.

 

“I think he’s been sober for a couple of years, actually,” the guy’s friend counters. “He went to rehab, I’m pretty sure.”

 

“Please,” the guy scoffs, voice getting louder. Other people have turned their attention toward the conversation taking place, now. “They should just take the suit away from him so someone decent can have it. The guy’s a freaking mess. All he does is get shitfaced and whore around—”

 

“Hey,” Steve finally interjects, unable to keep himself out of the conversation any longer. This guy might be entitled to an opinion, but he’s crossing all kinds of lines by being so derogatory. “You wanna try showing some respect?”

 

Both men turn to look at Steve. The one holding the magazine looks him up and down, crossing his arms. “Why should I do that?”

 

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, if I’m not mistaken, Iron Man has saved this city from numerous threats. I’d say that earns him some respect.”

 

The guy’s lips curl in a sneer. “What’s it to you, anyway? What, you some fanboy or something?”

 

“I’m someone who can appreciate the sacrifices he’s making and the constant risk he’s putting himself in for all of our sake’s,” Steve responds, pointing at the magazine. “You should try and do the same.”

 

“Yeah, well, anyone can do those things in a suit of armour,” he says with obvious contempt. “That senator had the right idea when he demanded Stark hand it over. It’s government property. Might as well give it to someone who deserves it.”

 

“Mr. Stark built that armour himself. It belongs to him, and he’s proven himself more than qualified to pilot it,” Steve argues, his irritation skyrocketing. People behind him have begun murmuring, but the fact he’s likely been recognized hardly matters. “Tony Stark  _is_  Iron Man, and he’s a hero.”

 

“Heroes are supposed to be people we can look up to,” the guy crosses his arms, “you think some drunk that sleeps around fits the bill?”

 

“I think his personal life is none of your business,” Steve advises, patience dwindling by the second. “And do I think we should look up to someone who’s owned up to his mistakes and is actively trying to do better? Absolutely.”

  
  


***

  
  


There’s a video.  _Of course_  there’s a video—not a single moment in the twenty-first century goes undocumented, it seems . A ball cap was hardly going to do Steve any good once he drew attention to himself in a crowded supermarket. It’s all over the internet, and virtually all of the news stations have been playing it on a loop for days, which really makes Steve despair for the state of modern journalism. Paparazzi and reporters alike have been chasing him around on his morning runs, doing their best to coax a comment out of him. (Unfortunately for them, Steve can run pretty fast.) The sudden attention is exhausting, but Steve can’t bring himself to regret his actions; he meant what he said and it was the right thing to do.

 

On the fifth day after the incident, Steve’s phone rings as he walks through the door of his apartment, pleasantly sore from his workout. The caller ID says “Private Number.” Steve’s shoulders tense and he sees red. The phone was given to him by SHIELD; the number is classified, and very few people know it.

 

“Rogers,” he growls. Whatever poor reporter is on the other end is about to be very sorry they’ve decided to harass him.

 

“Captain Rogers?” comes a female voice. It’s not one Steve recognizes, but the woman sounds taken aback by his belligerence. “This is Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. Is this a bad time for you?”

 

There’s a beat of silence as Steve processes the information. He knows who Pepper Potts is, of course—her name is as recognizable as Stark’s—but he never expected she’d be calling him.  Feeling guilty for the hostility he’s shown, he clears his throat before responding. “My apologies, Ms. Potts. What can I do for you?”

 

“Actually, Captain—”

 

“Please, call me Steve.”

 

“All right,” she says after a moment, and Steve can hear the smile in her voice, “but only if you call me Pepper.”

 

“I think I can manage that.”

 

“Cap—Steve. I’m calling about the video that surfaced a few days ago,as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. I’ve been fielding calls about it for days now—”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure it’s been even worse on your end. I never meant—”

 

Pepper’s laughter cuts him off. “Sorry? Steve, do you have any idea what an endorsement from Captain America does for business? Our stock has gone up. It might even be enough to keep the board off of Tony’s back for a few weeks. I’m calling to  _thank_  you.”

 

“Oh,” he says awkwardly, glad she can’t see the baffled expression on his face. “Well, I’m… glad I could help?”

 

Pepper laughs again, the sound of it warm and genial, and Steve decides he likes her immensely. “You sure did. Which is why, on top of thanking you, I’m calling to invite you to the Stark Gala next month. Mr. Stark himself insisted. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

 

“If that’s true, shouldn’t he be the one making this call?”

 

“You’ve got a point,” she concedes with a chuckle, “but even though he’s a superhero, you’ll find Mr. Stark is not nearly as daring as I am.”

 

Steve gives a hearty laugh at that. “I don’t doubt it,” he says sincerely. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to let Mr. Stark know that if he wants to meet me, he’s going to have to ask for himself.”

 

Pepper is silent for only a moment, but it seems to stretch for longer. “I’ll make sure he gets the message.” There’s a heavy pause, almost as if Pepper is uncertain whether she should say more. “You know, he’d never admit it, but… having your approval means a lot to him, Steve.”

  
  


***

  
  


Supervillains, it seems, don’t take holidays off. Steve had been planning on spending Christmas Day with leftover take-out and his Netflix queue; instead, he finds himself in the middle of Times Square, where a bunch of AIM goons are causing trouble. He’s already got half of them unconscious when a blur of red and gold registers in his peripheral vision.

 

“Hope you don’t mind if I join the party,” Iron Man says, shooting a repulsor beam that knocks down one of the AIM members.

 

“Mr. Stark,” Steve acknowledges, hurling his shield at an arc that takes out two.

 

“Captain,” Stark returns. “You’re a tough man to get a hold of.”

 

“I wasn’t aware you’ve been trying to get my attention.” He raises his shield as another goon shoots at him, pushing forward to smash it in his face.

 

“Hm,” says Iron Man, dodging a shot and aiming his repulsors at two of their enemies. “I do believe you declined my invitation.”

 

“I don’t believe I ever received an invitation from  _you_ , Mr. Stark,” Steve counters, slugging another goon with a well-placed elbow.

 

“I suppose not,” he allows, coming down to stand opposite Steve and raising his arms towards his shield. Understanding the intent, Steve allows the repulsor beam to hit it, angling it at the agents surrounding them. The move manages to take down all five of them. “Would the answer have been different if I had? I guess I’m gonna have to try harder, aren’t I?”

 

“I guess so,” Steve confirms, unable to stop himself from smirking. “But perhaps now isn’t the most appropriate time to be discussing this.”

 

“Right, right,” Stark agrees, giving a small salute. “Work now, play later.”

 

In less than ten minutes, they manage to take down the rest of the AIM agents with ease. When the SHIELD transport vehicles arrive, they help corral them inside, watching as they disappear out of sight.

 

“Thanks for your help, Iron Man,” Steve says, extending his hand in invitation.

 

Iron Man flips his faceplate open, a cordial smile stretching his lips. “Tony’s fine, Cap.” There are heavy bags under his eyes, but Steve still finds himself thinking that he’s even more handsome in person.

 

“Steve,” he say as they shake hands.

 

“You got a few minutes, Steve? I think we should talk.”

  
  


***

  
  


The armour disassembles around Tony with a simple command. Iron Man is gone, and instead it’s Tony Stark standing in his living-room in Stark Tower, wearing tattered jeans and a stained tank-top, his feet bare. A thin sheen of sweat covers his neck and bare shoulders. The image he presents is such a sharp contrast to the glossy photos Steve has seen of him in pristine suits, but no less appealing. It leaves him breathless, fingers itching to rub off the smudge of dirt high on his temple.

 

Steve doesn’t do a very good job of being subtle, and Tony looks embarrassed when he notices him staring. “Uh, sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to his attire. “I, uh, didn’t exactly plan on having company today.”

 

“No, uh, I…” Steve stammers, then closes his mouth before he can say something stupid like  _it looks good on you_. “You—You’re fine. I mean, you look fine.”

 

_Jesus, Rogers._

 

A faint blush spreads on the bridge of Tony’s nose and he coughs into his hand to try and cover it up. Steve bites on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Tony’s reputation is that of a suave and boastful man, but here he seems just as out of sorts as Steve feels. It’s comforting and really quite endearing.

 

Steve clears his throat, trying to get his mind back on track. “You, um, wanted to talk?”

 

“Right,” Tony agrees, straightening his shoulders. “I owe you a thanks, for one thing. For—for the video thing.”  

 

Steve scrunches his nose. “You don’t owe me anything.”

 

“Maybe,” says Tony, “but I’d like to extend my thanks nonetheless.”

 

“All right,” Steve accepts, trying to smother the note of disappointment in his voice. His shoulders droop as he realizes this really was just about the stupid video. God, is he pathetic. “Well, I suppose I should g—”

 

“Why’d you do it?” Tony asks in a low but urgent voice, brows knitting together.

 

The question takes Steve by surprise, but he doesn’t hesitate in his reply. “You don’t deserve to be talked about that way.”

 

Tony gives a tight-lipped smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but people say worse things about me on a daily basis.” His tone is nonchalant, but Steve notes the momentary slouch in his shoulders.

 

“Well, they shouldn’t,” Steve insists. A ball of anger unravels itself in his chest, cheeks flushing. He hates the fact Tony is used to that kind of treatment, that it’s common enough to consider normal. “You’re a good man, Tony.”

 

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful here,” Tony tucks his hands into his jeans pockets, “but you don’t even know me, Cap.”

 

“I know enough,” Steve says with a shrug. With a grin he adds, “besides, I’m an excellent judge of character.”

 

Tony doesn’t return the smile. He stands frozen, staring at Steve with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then, he takes two very deliberate steps toward Steve, not breaking eye contact and giving Steve plenty of time to move out of the way if he so choose. Steve doesn’t, and then Tony is right in his space. It’s as if someone sucked all of the air out of the room and Steve’s throat goes dry. When Tony’s hand comes to contact with his arm, a shiver runs down his spine.

 

“If I’m reading any of this wrong,” Tony says carefully, looking down at Steve’s lips, “now would be a good time to tell me.”

 

Steve’s tongue comes out to moisten his lips, but he says nothing. When Tony tilts his head and leans in, Steve’s heartbeat accelerates, pounding loudly in his ears. Despite the intention being incredibly clear, it’s still a shock when their lips finally touch. The warm, dry press of Tony’s mouth is incredible, the heady smell of engine oil mixed with expensive cologne instantly addictive. Tony’s hands frame Steve’s face, his fingers calloused but gentle as they brush his chin and jaw. Feeling bold, Steve brings his own hand to the back of Tony’s head. The hair at his nape is damp with sweat and a little curly as a result, which makes Steve smile into the kiss.

 

“This is real, right?” Tony murmurs against his lips, eyes gone soft and completely dazed. “I’m not imagining this?”

 

Rather than answering, Steve recaptures Tony’s mouth with his own. This time, he swipes his tongue against the seam of Tony’s lips, and the response is instantaneous; Tony opens up to allow him in, tasting faintly of coffee, and their tongues meet. Suddenly, it’s like they can’t be close enough, and Steve uses his other arm to pull Tony in by his waist. With three long strides, he backs Tony up against the nearest wall, pressing them flush together from foot to chest. They only separate to catch their breath.

 

“Hey, Steve?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I take you out?” Tony asks, rubbing his thumb behind Steve’s ear. “On a date, I mean,” he adds as an after-thought, as if clarification is needed. Before Steve can reply, however, the colour drains from Tony’s face. He looks horrified at the words that came out of his mouth, eyes wide and jaw set tightly. “Um, unless… it’s fine if you don’t… if this is just a—”

 

“Tony,” Steve interrupts before he can continue, cupping his face with both hands, “I’d like to go out with you. I’d like that very much, actually.”

 

Tony’s smile is brilliant, and Steve privately thinks he very much likes being responsible for it. “That’s… that’s great.”

 

Steve leans in for another kiss, because kissing Tony is pretty fantastic. They exchange a soft smile, resting their foreheads together and settling into a comfortable silence.

 

“You know,” Tony starts suddenly, as if just remembering something, “there was something I wanted to talk to you about, before your stupid mouth distracted me.”

 

Steve chuckles. He can’t say he regrets it very much. “Yeah? About what?”

 

“Well… we made a pretty good team back there, didn’t we? Kicked all kind of ass.”

 

“We did,” Steve agrees, thinking back to how easily they fell into fighting together, how attuned they were to each other’s movements.

 

“Sort of makes you wonder if it should become a permanent thing, doesn’t it?” Tony continues. Steve cocks an eyebrow. “I mean, we have all these superheroes living in New York… might as well get them together to fight the Big Bads as a team. Earth’s mightiest heroes type thing.”

 

“You’ve given this some thought,” Steve says in awe. It does make a lot of sense, and it’s such an obvious solution it’s a wonder none of them have thought of it until now. There’s no doubt they’ll be stronger together, and the idea of being part of a team makes him happy.

 

“You could say that,” Tony admits. “It’s Jan who deserves all the credit, really. We’ve been talking about it for a while, trying to figure out who’d make a good fit for the team. Your name was one of the first to come up. ”

 

“Jan?”

 

“Wasp,” Tony explains, “we’ve been friends for a long time.” Steve nods in acknowledgement. He hasn’t had the chance to meet her, but she’s a great hero. “Anyway, yeah, she sort of brought up this whole idea of a team, and I think she has a point. We should meet up with her and discuss it. She even has a name picked out.”

 

“Oh, really?” Steve asks, nuzzling into Tony’s throat. “And what might it be?”

 

“The Avengers,” Tony says, letting out a moan when Steve’s teeth scrape his collarbone. “Sorta has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah,” says Steve, pulling back to look Tony in the eye before kissing the corner of his mouth. He could really get used to this. “Yeah, it does.”


End file.
